


The End of All Things

by Publius1776



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gun Violence, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2019-11-07 21:49:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17968673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Publius1776/pseuds/Publius1776
Summary: A stray piece of paper and something that was never meant to be read could change the course of Brian and John’s friendship forever.Trigger warnings for self-harm and depression. Be careful please.





	1. Chapter 1

The sky hadn’t been clear enough in weeks for the stars to peek through and even in his current frame of mind, Brian would be loathe to pass up the opportunity. That’s how Brian May found himself sitting on the roof of his apartment, legs dangling carelessly over the edge as he propped himself back on his elbows, staring aimlessly at the night sky above him. It didn’t escape him that there was not the usual joy present he found when contemplating the stars; instead there was an emptiness and sense of insignificance that had been shrouding him for weeks. Melancholy wasn’t something he was unfamiliar, in fact it was a constant presence he had dealt with his entire life. But this time it felt different, darker, and Brian hadn’t been able to pull himself out of it. A passive sigh punched itself out of him and he spared a glance down at his watch out of habit. Groaning, he realized that he had told Deacy to stop by once he was done studying and that the younger man was probably already there. Brian heaved himself up, brushing flecks of debris off his clothes as he pattered down the stairs to his flat. 

John tried not to grow restless as he waited outside the door of Brian’s flat, but it was never like Brian to be rude and forget a prior engagement. It had been what, fifteen minutes at this point and John was starting to worry. The guitarist’s odd behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the band, and had in fact been the topic of conversation at the rehearsal (which Brian had missed again). That had really been the driving for behind the bassist stopping by, he would have rather gone home to sleep but his concern for his friend was overwhelming. He knocked again, a bit harder as if that would rouse Brian from wherever he was, trying not to let his worry and frustration show. 

“Christ Deacy, trying to break my door down?” 

Turning to the direction the voice came from, John was surprised fo see a rather rumpled looking Brian propped against the stairwell, one eyebrow raised in confusion. 

John couldn’t help but huff, brushing a stray piece of hair from his face. “I’ve been knocking for 15 minutes Brian, I was worried.” 

Brian at least had the dignity to look guilty as he hurried over to unlock the door of his flat. “I’m sorry John, I really am. The sky was nice tonight and I just lost track of time, that’s all. Let me make you a cup of tea for waiting.”

John hummed his agreement, sparing a glance at Brian before letting his eyes sweep the room. It was clean, which was typical for Brian, but the clutter was new. Thick volumes on the cosmos and stars were stacked on every available table, some piles even teeming over to the floor. Scraps of paper were scattered about as well, some filled with complex looking math problems and some with unfinished lyrics. Before he could think too much into the mess, Brian was pushing a cup of warm tea into his hand and plopping himself into a chair with a cup of his own.

A few moments passed of John standing with the tea cup clutched tightly in his grasp before Brian awkwardly cleared his throat. “Care to have a seat Deacy?” he asked quietly, taking a slow sip from his tea. The younger man flushed as he realized how awkward he was being and carefully arranged himself on the worn couch. A few beats of silence passed before John finally spoke. 

“You said you had a song to give me? On the phone earlier?” He quickly explained, setting his cup down on the only empty space on the table beside him. 

Brian nodded, reaching over to riffle through a stack of papers close to his foot. “Sorry I just misplaced it, give me a second,” more shuffling before the curly hair man finally emerged with two pieces of paper in hand. “Ah here it is.” With a diminished sort of grin, he passed one of the papers over, keeping the other clutched tightly to his chest. “It’s not completely finished, I wanted to talk to Fred about the last few lines, but I think it could work yeah?” 

John glanced over the paper, impressed as always at his friend’s ability to articulate so beautifully in songs. “Brilliant as always Bri, what’s the beat?” Brian stood quickly, the other paper forgotten and fluttering to the ground at Deacy’s foot. “Let me go get the Old Lady, I’ll play a bit of it, maybe you can help me work out some spots too.” John watched his friend wander off, smiling to himself at his friend acting somewhat like his usual self. Reaching for his neglected cup, he noticed a the fallen paper and picked it up with careful fingers. Seeing scribbled lines, he assumed it was another song Brian hadn’t quite finished and didn’t see the harm in taking a peek. 

“The truth is, existing is overwhelming for me. Day to day, realizing how insignificant I am in a universe that’s so vast is deafening. I’m not sure why I keep this charade going..the band is still new enough that a new guitarist wouldn’t hurt them. One who could write something actually meaningful. Freddie and Roger, god they’re incredible. They have so much energy and life, they’re the kind of people the universe waits for, and they need someone else like that. And John, god what did we ever do without him. He’s such a beautiful soul, sometimes I think the only reason I keep hanging on is to spend another moment with him. I’ve never seen anything more amazing than him...but he’d be better off without me as well. I wouldn’t ever be able to love him like he deserves, no matter what I feel, and I don’t deserve him anyways. I suppose I’m just tired of trying. There really isn’t much point in being here anymore. I’ll just quit the band, tell them I’m moving home, it’ll make it easier. They won’t have anything to miss or clean up. It’s always better this wa-“ 

A thud close behind him jerked John from his reading, his eyes flying to the source of the noise. Brian was standing behind him, his beloved Red Special lying on the floor where she had been dropped. He was pale, eyes wide with panic as they darted from the note in his bandmate’s hand, to the other man’s face.

“Brian I-,” John started, moving to stand from his place on the couch when the older man held out a hand to stop him. 

“Get out John.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John doesn't use his better judgement for once and he isn't sure if Queen or Brian will survive it.

John was sure in that moment he looked like a fish gasping for water, his mouth gaping and no sounds managing to escape. He was still staring at Brian, who was looking increasingly less panicked and more irritated by the second. 

"I said get out Deacon, can't you bloody hear?" The dark haired man roared, shoving at the chair that John had once occupied. The use of his last name shook John from his shocked state; Brian had never called him that before, rarely called him anything other than Deacy if they were being honest. "Bri...what is this? What is going on?" He tried to keep his words as soft and calm as he could, but his voice betrayed him with a slight tremble. There was no answer and for a brief moment, the bassist considered the possibility that his friend might actually hit him if he couldn't get through. 

"Brian please," John begged, reaching out to lay a hand on the older man's shaking arm. Brian recoiled as if he had been burned, backing away and stumbling over his beloved guitar in the process. He landed harshly with his back against the wall, immediately curling in on himself. The rational part of John's mind told him that he needed to leave, that Brian needed spaced (as this was usually the case when he was in one of these moods). A smaller part was screaming at him to stay though, that something wasn't right, that Brian was not okay and if he left, something terrible would surely happen. He took a few tentative steps toward Brian, unsure of what he doing now. 

"John...please just go.." came the muffled whisper, Brian making no effort to meet his friend's concerned gaze as he dared step a bit closer. Something about Brian's tone, quiet, defeated, made John step back. The younger man ran a shaky hand through his hair, glancing over at the door. "Okay..okay Brian I'm going. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to read that..but I really think we need to talk. We all need to talk. Can you at least come to rehearsal in the morning? We'll all have had time to think and we can figure this out Bri. We can get you some help, just please..promise you'll come?" John finished his spiel and released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when he saw Brian nod. He eased over to the door, hand on the knob as he turned to look back at his crumpled friend. "Please call me if you need me Bri..I promise, I'll always be here for you." And with that, John exited the flat. If he heard a broken sob as he fled the building, he said nothing. 

****************

A blaring phone ring shook John from the uneasy sleep that he finally had managed to fall into around 4 am. "Who the hell is calling this early in the bloody morning?" he snarled, dragging himself out of bed and to his kitchen. "Hello?" he growled, not bothering to attempt any sort of pleasantness. 

"Deacy! Darling thank goodness you answered, we were starting to wonder if you were going to quit on us too!" Freddie's airy, joking tone did nothing for John's current mood. "What are you going on about Fred?" he sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face as he attempted to wake himself up. 

"Well first, you and Brian don't even bother to show up for rehearsals this morning,-" John glares over at the clock to correct Fred, but then realizes he had indeed slept through their agreed upon time. "I'm sorry Fred," he started blearily, but the singer just kept on with his original string of thought. "And then Brian had the audacity to call in one of his little moods and say he was quitting the band! Can you believe him? We really need to get him out of his head more."

John couldn't believe his ears; surely Fred was just messing with him. "Fred, what did you just say?" he croaked, vaguely feeling like he was going to be sick at that very moment. 

"I said the Brian quit the band dear, do keep up. Obviously it's non-sense, he's just in one of his moods, but it's still annoying. I wonder what's gott-" Freddie never had the change to finish because John slammed the phone back on the receiver and raced to the front door, grabbing shoes, his keys, and racing out of the flat like his life depended on it, because Brian's certainly might.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit short, just some slight filler before the next part.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Brian was up to instead of keeping his promise to John.

Brian was proud that he managed to hold himself together until John had left. If he was being honest, he had wanted to jump out of the closest bloody window when he had come back to the living room and found John reading..well Brian wasn't even sure what to call it. It wasn't a note, he wasn't vain enough to pretend anyone would care if he was gone and a note wasn't needed at that point. He had just needed to get the thoughts out his head, he'd meant to throw the damn thing away but it was too late now. John knew..John knew everything know, how far Brian had fallen, that he was in love with him...and he had still left. Brian was a rational, intelligent man and some piece knew that John had panicked and left to allow himself space to work out whatever was going on. Everyone knew the moods Brian was prone to, and it wasn't anything he could help. Most of the time, it just passed and he went on about his life. But there was a darker, more twisted part of the brilliant man's mind that told him everything he had thought was true. No one was that concerned with whether or not Brian was existed, and John certainly didn't return any of his silly feelings and never would. The curly haired man allowed himself a moment of pity, collapsing completely on his side and sobbing quietly into the floor. He couldn't be sure he long he laid there, hours it had seemed, but it was long enough for his resolve to steel about what he had to do. 

The phone call had been easy enough, Freddie had thankfully answered the phone instead of Roger or John and maybe Brian had dug around in a cupboard to find a bottle of vodka Roger had surely left weeks ago and downed a quarter of the bottle before he began. "Brian Harold May, have you absolutely lost that brilliant little mind of yours? One rehearsal is bad enough, but this is two now and we just now get the courtesy of a phone call. What do you have to say for yourself?" The words had slipped out before Brian had time to even think about them. "Fred, I quit." There had been a slight pause and he briefly wondered if Freddie had hung up on him. "Darling, what on earth are you talking about?" Brian paused, licking his cracked lips before starting again. 

"I'm quitting the band Fred. You'll need a better guitarist if you are ever going to get anywhere and it's certainty not me. So I quit." His words sounded weak even to his own ears, unconvincing, almost as if he were begging for his friend to argue. When he heard instead was the singer's twinkling laugh assaulting his ears. 

"Oh my dear Brian, I'm suppose to be the dramatic one, not you. I know you've been feeling a bit down, but it's nothing we can't all help you through. Please just come to the studio, stop this foolishness." All Freddie heard was a soft sigh from the other man and then a quiet "Bye Fred." Hanging up the receiver, Freddie turned to Roger who had been lounging on the couch half listening to the conversation before him. "Hey Rog," Freddie started quietly, causing the blonde to look up from the cigarette he had been attempting to light. "Brian is..okay isn't he? I mean he wouldn't really quit on us?" The drummer snorted, his face softening a bit when he saw the genuine concern in the older man's eyes. "No Freddie, Bri isn't going anywhere. Do you really think he would let us be in charge of anything without him here to kill all our fun?" Both males chuckled at that, before Roger's tone became a bit more serious. "Really Fred, he's fine. He gets like this sometimes. It must be hard to be that smart, I think. He's always alright though, you know him." A moment of silence passed between the two, content that their friend was indeed fine before Freddie turned to the phone again. "I should probably check on John, it isn't like him to miss rehearsal.." 

***************

Small pieces of sharpened steel shouldn't look this beautiful Brian thought vacantly to himself, carefully extracting one from his shaving kit. His fingers were shaking a little bit, a combination of nerves and now half a bottle of vodka violently attacking his senses. This was it, he was going to do it, he had to, it was better this way and everyone would be better off. "I should have just nicked some pain medicine from mum and dad, would have been much easier than this.." he mumbled halfheartedly, but he knew he deserved this much. This wasn't the first time he had done this; unfortunately the man was all too familiar with the bite of a razor against his skin, but the purpose was much bigger now and he was unsure of what he was to do. Brian flopped gracelessly onto the floor of his bathroom, thinking if he hadn't drank so much the roof would have been a better choice. He hated the mess this would probably leave Ms. Higgins the land lady, she had always been kind and loved to have him stop in for a cup of tea. "Too late to worry about that now," he thought bitterly, taking another swig of the vodka. The razor laid beside him, taunting him, daring him to start. Brian whimpered, pulling at his curls with his free hand before carefully setting aside his drink in favor of grasping the blade. The first bite of steel into his wrist was overwhelming, causing him to go a bit deeper than he had intended to start. Watching the blood pool up against the pale skin set something dangerous of in the curly haired man's mind, a voice gleefully whispering to him how good he was, this is what he deserved, keep going. 

After that it was slice after slice, pristine and even slightly marred skin giving way to hatred and blood. Brian felt as though he had been going at this for a life time, taking another drink. He blearily realized he was a bit dizzy, but he knew this wasn't enough; there was only one way to actually end this. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before, although it had been more of his father's idea than something he actually agreed with. Shakily pushing himself to his feet, Brian managed to stumble down the hall to his room. Throwing open the door and practically falling in, he finally made it to his night to stand where he pulled the pistol out from it's hiding place. He had never had occasion to use it but now seemed as good a time as any. There would be no coming back from this, it would all finally be over. Had Brian not been so focused on the task at hand, he would have heard the banging on his front door. He would have heard the frantic shouting, or the bathroom door being banged open. Instead, the older man was concentrated on the both terribly frightening and yet freeing cold barrel pressed against his chin. One long finger, which had once danced so delicately over guitar strings, curled gently around the trigger not yet squeezing. Brian was so caught up in the ending he had created that he didn't hear his own bedroom door being pushed open, but what he did he shook him from his reverie.

"Brian, no!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Deacon was a rational man, no one could ever say he wasn't. But this..this was more than even he could handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to stay safe kids, there's mentions of guns, blood, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts/attempt.

If anyone thought it was odd to see a young, long haired man running frantically down the street in pajamas and untied trainers, they didn't say anything. London was a strange city at its best, but today was far from that. The weather was gloomy, rain drizzling down like a bad shower head was pointed directly over the town. Had the young man not been in such a panicked hurry, he may have noted the appropriateness of the climate. Instead, John Deacon was sprinting down the slick sidewalk, praying to whatever God he wasn't sure he believed in at this moment, that he could make it in time. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw Brian's building and raced up the stairs to his band-mate's door. Banging on the door, he was sure he was screaming at this point. "Brian! Brian Harold May you open this god damn door right this minute!" John tried not to become completely hysterical when he was met with silence, opting to try the knob instead. Finding it unlocked, he clambered inside, frantically searching for any sign of Brian. A wave of nausea washed over the young man when he noticed the great sploshes of red trailing from the bathroom to Brian's bedroom. This time John didn't bother to knock, simply throwing open the door of the bedroom. John Deacon was a rational man, no one could ever say he wasn't. But this..this was more than even he could handle. "Brian, no!" 

Brian May briefly entertained the thought the he was hallucinating; perhaps a happy mix of blood loss and an unreasonable amount of vodka coursing through his veins. That was the only plausible explanation for John bloody Deacon standing at his bedroom, looking as though his entire world was crashing around his ears. "This..this can't be real.." he whispered, mostly to himself but John still heard. A pained noise left the bassist as he stared at his friend. "I keep saying the same thing to myself. Bri..please..please put it down." 

Blinking owlishly, Brian tilted his head in confusion at his friend. "What are you going on about John?," The bordering on hysterical laugh that was punched out of John startled Brian a bit as he flinched instinctively away from the loud noise. "What am I going on about? Jesus Christ , you have a fucking gun to your head and you're talking to me like we're having a chat about the weather!" John snarled, daring to take a few steps inside the room. Brian glanced down, noting that his friend was correct, he was still holding the gun in a trembling hand. He had been so shocked by John's entrance that he had briefly forgotten about what he was doing beforehand. The older man tried to steel his resolve again, clutching at the gun a bit tighter. "It wasn't suppose to happen like this John. I need you to leave," he finally mumbled. John violently shook his head, trying to inch closer to Brian's side. "Brian..please. I need you to put the gun down. You're bleeding everywhere and I'm afraid..." the young man's voice trailed off weakly, desperately trying to avoid saying what he feared most. Brian's harsh chuckle only served to make John feel sick again. "You're afraid of what? Me dying? We're past that John, so past that." Another bitter laugh. "Let's not pretend like anyone cares. This is what's best. I can't even function properly most of the time. It's really just better this way." Brian's voice was so strong and certain, a conviction in it that John hadn't heard in a long time and he was hitting his knees before he realized what was happening. 

"JOHN!" Brian wanted nothing more than to go to the younger man, wrap his arms around him and comfort him, ignoring that he was the cause of his love's pain. The guitarist couldn't do that though; he had to stay strong and finish what he started. This was the right thing to do, they just didn't understand it yet. He forced himself to turn away from the collapsed man, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. "I'm sorry John, but you really have to go. Please don't make me do this in front of you. It wasn't suppose to be this way." There was a beat of silence and for a moment, Brian thought that maybe his friend would listen and leave. A short intake of breath let him know he might not be so lucky. "You love me." There was no note of question in John's voice, it was a blunt statement of fact. Brian didn't open his eyes, just gave a small nod in response. The barrel of the gun made a unpleasant knocking noise against his chin. "Then don't do this. Stay with me. We can fix this, we can-," 

"There is no we!" Brian growled, fighting to tamper down any small bit of hope John's words had brought. "There is no us John, I am under no illusions that there ever was or ever will be. I know you read what was on that paper and yo-you left anyways..I doubt you want the last thing you say to me to be a lie.." The older man could hear shuffling behind him and reasoned it was his friend trying to get closer. "I'm not lying to you Bri. Please, just put it down. Let me help you." More shuffling noises filled the room. John's voice seemed closer now and impossibly desperate. "Please Brian. I love you." A beat of immense silence covered the room and for the briefest of moments, John felt like maybe he had gotten through to his friend. Those thoughts were dashed as he saw a pale hand lift the gun ever so slightly and John acted without thinking. He launched himself at Brian at the same time the curly haired man pulled the trigger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, I hate that this took so long but I hope you appreciate it regardless. It was harder to write this than I thought...stay safe kids.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you would have told John Deacon three days ago that he would watch his best friend be carted off in an ambulance, stark white sheet covered in blood, he would have called you a liar.

A shot rang out through the room, a stray bullet wedging itself into the far side of Brian's bedroom wall. The men looked up from where they were tangled on the floor, two pairs of wide eyes looking from the hole in the wall to each other. For a moment nothing was said and John was just wondering what in the hell he was suppose to do now, when Brian began sobbing. He managed to untangle himself from the younger man, noticing the blood now covering the other man's clothes and his sobs became borderline hysterical as he shoved himself into the space between his bed and nightstand. "Oh god, oh god no," Brian whimpered, tugging at his limp curls with bloody hands. "I can't even-Christ I can't even kill myself properly." Those words finally spurred a horrified John into action. He gingerly moved towards the wounded man, doing his best not to frighten him anymore than he already was. "Bri...Brian?" The bassist tried to keep his voice as level as possible, but it was hard not to be distressed when he could clearly hear his friend trying to hyperventilate. 

"Brian, you have to stop this and breathe. I mean it, you have to breathe, please for fuck's sake." John was beside himself, unsure of how to help his friend, and terrified that it might already be too late. The older man seemed lost in his own world, chest heaving as he breathed erratically, clawing at his destroyed arms. John had to close his own eyes and take a deep breath to fight the wave of nausea threatening to overtake him. A surge of anger and panic overtook him instead and he reached out suddenly, snatching a handful of Brian's hair and yanking his head back.

"You are going to listen to me, do you understand?" the young bassist snarled, grip tight in his band mate's hair. Brian had the sense to look properly shocked, sobs stuttering to hiccups as he tried to process the strange turn of events. "I said, do you understand? I want words Bri." A sharp tug brought the guitar player a bit closer to reality and he stared at John with wide doe eyes. "Yes sir.." The response was so quiet, so weak that the other almost didn't catch it. But he did, something seeming to snap in Brian and it was like watching a balloon deflate. All the tension seeped out of his body and John suddenly found himself with a heap of Brian on his chest. That answer was definitely something to unpack later but John had to work quickly and he knew it.

After dragging Brian to the bathroom and applying to pressure to the wounds, John realized the extent of the damage his friend had done to himself. "Jesus mate.." he mumbled, biting his lip. There was no way the curly haired man could go without being stitched up and John knew he had to call an ambulance. Leaving a subdued Brian propped against the couch, he rushed to the phone quickly dialing 999. A soft female voice came across the phone, calmly asking his emergency. "My friend he..oh god he's tried to kill himself, he needs help, we need help please," John whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut against the onset of tears. "Sir please don't panic, help will be there shortly." John finished giving her their information and slammed the phone back on the receiver. He weakly tugging Brian into his arms and held onto him as the sound of sirens finally reached his ears.

If you would have told John Deacon three days ago that he would watch his best friend be carted off in an ambulance, stark white sheet covered in blood, he would have called you a liar. Instead, he watched the scene with a detached demeanor and collapsed in on himself as the door to Brian's flat closed behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bright lights, harsh words, Brian wasn't sure this day could get much worse.

The first thing he noticed was that there was an annoyingly bright light that seemed intent on causing the most massive migraine Brian had ever experienced. The next was that his mouth felt as though it were stuffed with cotton and his arms seemed to be on fire with a dull throb. In an attempt to find a more comfortable position that would do nothing to alleviate any of his ailments, he went to shift to his side on the bed. However when the lanky man tried to shift he found there was something preventing him from doing so. Panicking, Brian struggled a bit more, frantically trying to move any part of his body when he heard a exhausted sigh. 

"It won't do you any good to fight, they've got you strapped down." The voice was hollow and painfully familiar and the guitarist was tempted to slam his eyes shut and pretend the other person wasn't there. Instead of being a complete coward, he cleared his throat pitifully. "John..wh-what are you doing here?" The glare his young friend leveled at him might have killed him if that was an option. "Are you completely mental?"

"I'd say so, look where we are." Brian muttered with a huff, once again trying to shimmy himself into a less awkward position on the hospital bed. John rose from his seat with a flourish, having the decency to look ashamed at that comment but still undeniably angry. "What I am doing here Brian? Oh let me see, my best mate tried to kill himself because I left him alone, and if that wasn't bad enough, I come in to find you with a bloody gun to your head! So forgive me for being nervous at leaving you alone anymore, even in a hospital!" John was pacing at this point, hands clenched tightly at his sides as he desperately tried to control his anger. 

Brian flicked his eyes back to the blasted light on the ceiling, figuring it the better option than his enraged friend. He wasn't sure what to say at this point, never expecting to have to face the disappoint of messing up ending his life. "Well clearly I can't do anything strapped down, feel free to go." He chanced a glance at his friend despite his earlier reservations. "You look like hell.." he murmured, concern seeping into the comment. He was dimly aware of the pacing coming to a halt before John was looming over him with a deranged mix of terror and rage on his face. There was nothing calm about his tone now. "I look terrible? Brian you're strapped to a fucking bed and bandaged nine way to Sunday because you wouldn't fucking listen. I was right there, I could have helped you, I wanted to help you, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME??" 

The expression of shock on the injured man's face was enough to prompt John to throw himself back in his chair, scrubbing his hands over his eyes in a furious attempt to wipe his tears. The older man realized how silly it was to try and comfort his friend when he couldn't even sit up properly, but he was going to do his best to try. "John..Deacy..please don't cry..it's fine, I'm fine, I'm here.." The young man let out a heart shattering sob, curling in on himself as the gravity of the situation hit him. "You were almost gone, if Freddie hadn't called, if I was just a few moments later, Brian we could have lost you! I could have lost, how could you be so stupid!" 

The curly haired man had always known that his plan was selfish, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to care. Seeing John so distraught at his actions though broke something in Brian and once again starting struggling against his restraints in an effort to get to the younger man. "John please undo these, I can't stand this, come here please," he begged, desperate to comfort the friend who had done so much for him in such a short time. The bassist shot him a weary look before sucking in a pathetic breath and moving to loosen the ties holding Brian down. Once freed, the older man sat up gingerly, reaching for John who backed away without meeting his eyes. "Deacy..it's me..I won't hurt you.." he whispered softly, reaching a hand out to coax the distressed male to his side. John caught sight of the bandaged arm again and broke into a fresh round of sobs, crushing himself as close to Brian's side as he could. "I almost lost you," he whimpered out, face buried in the other's chest. "I almost lost you and you didn't even care. You wouldn't stay, even for me. What am I supposed to do without you?"

Brian held tight to his friend, letting him cry and pondering over what they were suppose to do now. There was the obvious 72 hour psych stay to contend with, but there was so much more. What would Freddie and Roger say, what were his parents going to do. More importantly, was John going to be okay? Bri had never seen the kid so distraught and he couldn't help but think once the shock wore off, this was it. John would leave once Brian was declared better and he would be alone again. Faced with the prospect of having to continue on without his band, his friends, the love of his life, the older man did the only thing he could think to do. He held John a bit tighter and made his next plan.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian's plans are foiled again and Deacy might be an actual angel.

The 72 hour psych hold was almost more than Brian could stand. Doctors and nurses in and out, questions about how he was feeling in a never ending flow. He was quite certain that if one more person asked why he did what he did, his head would implode. For the most part, he spoke little and what he did choose to say were in efforts to convince everyone he was perfectly fine and could be released. The sooner he could get out, the sooner he could get on with this next plan. But first Brian had to survive the madness he currently found himself in. His parents had been the difficult part; he was certain they were going to have to admit his mother when she fainted upon entering the room and he couldn't quite recall the last time he had seen his father cry. What Brian did know is that he hated to be the cause of it. Freddie and Roger were frequent visitors and after the initial angry confrontation, their visits were mostly efforts to make the curly haired man smile as much as possible in his bleak situation. The guitarist had to admit the gestures from his friends were nice and greatly appreciated. 

Surprisingly, John was a constant presence in Brian's hospital stay. Apparently he hadn't been joking when he said he was not comfortable leaving the older male alone again, even in a well guarded hospital room. Brian was not entirely sure how he felt about this fact; on the one hand, he was thankful John hadn't just stormed out of his life entirely once he realized that the other would be fine. On the other hand, he worried about being able to shake the younger male in order to execute his plan. But this was something to work out later on, when he was out of this horrid place and had room to breathe. 

One last evaluation and a weary reminder to follow up with a psychiatrist found Brian released and packing his bag. As he glanced at the wall to check the time and consider the merits of a cab versus catching the bus, John strolled into the room. Brian was only mildly surprised to see him. "Accompanying me home?" he equipped, slinging the bag that Roger had brought him over his arm. The corner of the young man's mouth ticked up but his face remained otherwise impassive. "Something like that," he murmured, striding over to take the bag from his friend and brandish a set a keys in front of him. "Loaned the van from Rog to give you a ride. Seemed silly to let you suffer the joys of public transport." 

Brian was internally grateful for this gesture but shrugged it off. "Unnecessary John. I can make it back to my flat on my own. It isn't far." An unreadable look crossed John's face. He was silent, thoughtful for a moment before speaking. "Brian, you're getting in the van and letting me give you a ride. That is NOT up for discussion." The tone of the bassist's voice was disarming and Brian found himself instantly wishing to comply. "Alright then.." he huffed weakly, following his friend out the door and to their ride, wondering what they were even suppose to talk about on the drive.

Thankfully John did not seem to be up for much a chat and the curly haired man took the opportunity to rest his head against the window and close his eyes. It was nice to feel the subtle warmth of the window on his cheek and hear the distinct noise of traffic roaring in the street. It vaguely dawned on him that he would miss something as minimal as this. Cracking an eye open to take in the view, Brian was startled to realize they were heading the opposite direction of his flat. "Where are we going?" he demanded, not in the mood for detours or nonsense. 

"My flat," John stated calmly, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Why in the hell are we going there," Brian sputtered, already seeing his careful crafted plan flying out the window. He was met with silence. "Deacy, this is ridiculous, I don't need to stay at your flat turn around. I need to go home, I don't need to be watched!" The older man could hear his voice getting higher and more desperate with every word that he said but he couldn't bring himself to care. He couldn't stay with someone else, he had to be alone for this to work. 

John was staring resolutely ahead. More silence passed between the two men before John finally spoke through gritted teeth. "I left you alone once and I almost lost you. If you think I'm stupid enough to leave you alone again Brian May, you don't know me very well at all." Brian was speechless as they parked in the street before doing the most reasonable thing he could think of. He crossed his arms with a pout and glared steadfast ahead. "I am not going anywhere with you," he snarled.

Brian had a roughly two second warning before a quite pissed off John Deacon yanked upon the passenger door and a grabbed a handful of curly hair (albeit much gentler than the first time it happened). "I have had it with your self-righteous nonsense May. You are going to march your arse up the stairs, sit on the couch and drink a cup of tea, and eat the bloody sandwich I make you. You are going to act like a bloody adult. You are going to acknowledge that you have a problem. You are going to act like a fucking adult because I will.not.lose.you." 

The last part was forced out and the grip in his hair had tightened substantially. Brian found that he felt a bit weak, a fierce warmth in his cheeks betraying his feelings. All he could manage was a small nod and pathetic squeak when the hair hold was released and he found himself engulfed in a warm hug. "I'm sorry Bri, I am just so fucking scared right now. Please...let me help you." Brian was again shocked by how young and vulnerable his friend looked and he was fairly certain he would have promised him anything in the world to make him happy. "Deacy..I'm..this is..okay," he finally settled on. "I'm fine..but I'll stay." The words were heavy between the two men and though they both knew they were a lie. it would be enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of filler while I get back in the swing. Sorry for the wait, thank you for all of your kindness and patience.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I’ve written anything in awhile so bear with me while I get my legs. I’m just projecting some of my own issues so don’t mind me.


End file.
